


Saviour

by Tired_and_Clumsy



Category: We Know the Devil (Visual Novel)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Misgendering, Yellow Ending (We Know The Devil)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tired_and_Clumsy/pseuds/Tired_and_Clumsy
Summary: A short ramble about the Yellow Ending, from Venus' POV.Graphic body horror and dysphoria tw - make sure to take care of yourself and don't read if it might negatively affect you.
Relationships: Neptune/Venus (We Know the Devil)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Saviour

The radios crackle, but Venus can’t hear them. She’s staring down at her arm, pale and soft, heavy. She reaches for it and explores its surface, the pull and stretch of the skin, the give of the flesh, the hard sharpness of the bone. The radios grow louder. Venus doesn’t notice.

Her fingernails are pale pink and tough, attached to long, thin, too-bony fingers.

Her knuckles were always too large, her hands too wide and thick to ever suit her. Her shoulders had begun to broaden of late, and she wished beyond everything for them to just go back to how they were, small and understated. Her legs had sprouted hair like malnourished, evil weeds growing from cracks in the brickwork. She resents each and every strand, how they all came together to cover her over. Every time she said how much she hated them, she was met with a reassuring comment about how manly they made her look. But who would ever want that?

She could feel her organs inside her, pulsating, throbbing, corrupting. She wanted to purge them from within herself, to rid her form of their sickening weight. She felt back to her arm, and its veins and its pallid complexion and long, pronounced tendons and tufts of ugly, pronounced hair, and her hands. Hands that were too big and long and thin and bony and pale and calloused. She scratches at her wrist. Underneath lies a particularly bright blue vein. She got them from her dad.

She scratches more. The surface turns pink.

They haven’t noticed yet.

The radios are crackling over the persistent sound of nails on skin. She digs them further into the flesh, and something gives.

A white chunk of skin comes off her arm, like playdough, followed by an intense, searing pain. Another dig, a tear, her fingers reaching between the bones of her forearm to carve a deep gash between them, opening it up and ripping the meat off the bone. Her nerves fire in series, adding to a signal as it courses through her, lighting her on fire. It doesn’t bleed, it can’t. It’s pure white and plastic, it gives to her touch.

They haven’t noticed yet.

She begins to tear at her stomach, releasing pale strips and flinging them across the cabin. She falls to her hands and knees and vomits in one long, continuous retch, her organs flooding from her mouth and piling onto the wooden floor with a sickly squelch. They taste like ash.

It’s not enough, she still feels heavy.

Light begins to leak from her mouth, and she keeps working, stripping her skin off her body up from the stomach, past her flat chest, to her shoulders, where she works through too much sinew and muscle and fat and tendon as they pull away like layers of rock in an excavation. Then down, to her legs, first the thighs, too muscular, the hair shedding from the smoothness of her skin. Pull and tear to rid herself from them, then down to the calves and feet and toes. She is shining now, like a torch, like a beacon. Then to the bones, harder, she’s almost free. Lighter by the second, like she can fly, as they splinter and pop under her control. She snaps the ligaments than hold them down, shatters them into as many pieces as necessary. Almost done now, all the pain is almost over. Her face remains, and she tears into it, perforating like a rubber mask. Her thin lips, large nose, hairy ears, all gone, all but her eyes.

She stops.

Shining brighter than ever, like the sun at midnight.

She keeps her eyes, she adorns herself with them, and she can finally see. She flies, floats, free from the weight of her body, all the fat and muscle keeping her down.

They notice.

_The devil’s got him._

She tries to speak, but her lips are gone.

_It’s too late._

She shouts, but her lungs are now cavities in her form, no longer weighing her down.

_Fight it, Venus!_

She reaches out with an arm that isn’t there, a wing of shining yellow, of sight and grace.

_It doesn’t have to be like this._

She reaches to Neptune, tries to speak, to tell her. But she’s afraid. She steps back from her friend, eyes widening and skin growing pale. Her hair flows like water, long and dark and deep and Venus wants to drown.

_It should have been me._

Venus’ physical heart wasn’t there anymore, but it just made the heartbreak worse. Her whole being felt like it was tearing, as Neptune crumpled to the ground, her body shaking with huge, spasmic sobs.

_Venus, come back to us._

Venus flies over Neptune, but can only watch as she folds in upon herself in grief and sadness and everything Venus felt for her.

_He’s gone._

Jupiter was right. Venus was soaring above Group West now, as they stood together, radios raised.

_I’m so sorry, Neptune._

They came crashing down upon Venus, and her wings shattered. Light spilt from great splits in her being, she cried tears of flowing gold, her freedom slipping from her grasp. She felt herself sink, the new and familiar weight of form added to her. Her stomach and lungs and liver and intestines came back into her, sickening her with their slime and bile. Her broken heart taped haphazardly together with bandage and prayer, still in pieces that were crushed into a whole. Her bones regrew, and she sank to the floor, sobbing through the pain as the shards shot into her, spreading and merging. Flesh regrew over them, nerves and sensation reaching out and spreading along the seams.

The radios came down again. And again.

And finally, skin. Covering it all, sealing her up. As she lay on the wooden floorboards, weak, crumpled, collapsed into a heap of bones and flesh, she looked across at her arm, as the last of the skin grew over, and the shining light was smothered.

_We did it Neptune. We saved him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, this is the first fic I've ever published!  
> I didn't expect my first published work to be a long, terrible, and emotional ramble, but here we are. I might delete this later, but I'll see how I'm feeling.  
> Whatever I do, at least it was nice to purge this from my system and onto paper, and I hope that someone enjoyed the process.


End file.
